Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Agatha blinked and then smiled. “Actually, you’re quite wrong.” Violetta frowned.

On the ground below, or rather, on the back of the rampaging automaton, Tarvek was coming to terms with his imminent death.

He had heard the stories about the castle, of course, but had assumed they were exaggerated. This had proven to be hubris on his part and the reality would have been challenging enough, even had he been fully fit and dressed. As it was, he was injured, practically naked, and depressed because he was about to die. He had always planned to die while ranting atop a tower or something—he had a very nice outfit all designed for the occasion and everything—and now all that effort would be wasted. Plus, he was worried that his mind might not be as properly focused as it should be.

But it would all be irrelevant anyway, at least to those people who wouldn’t have to scrub his remains off of the floor, because now he was going rather numb and his hands were starting to slip and it was getting awfully cold and…

“Tarvek!” That was Agatha’s voice. That opened another steamer trunk full of regrets… “Tarvek! Get ready to let go!”

Let go? Was she insane?

A bright red dot of light blinked into existence on the floor in front off them. The steam cat tensed. The dot wavered and then skittered off across the floor. With a roar, the creature leapt after it.

Instead of letting go, Tarvek reflexively gripped harder and then realized his error as he saw the dot dancing merrily upon the jammed door.

He screamed as the steam cat plowed through the ancient wood like a battering ram and slammed into the opposite wall. It shook itself and spun about just as Agatha stumbled through the shattered door after it. “Castle! Can you hear me? Destroy it! Now!”

“Of course, my Lady.” The Castle’s voice was nearly drowned out by Tarvek screaming her name in panic and she quickly added:

“And don’t hurt the person on its back!”

“Of course not.” As the Castle spoke, parts of the floor rose up and crushed the clank with a squeal of metal and a shower of sparks. The crushed mechanism clattered over, sending Tarvek rolling to land Agatha’s feet.

“Amazing,” he breathed, staggering as he tried to stand. He felt a bit dazed. “And…and I’m completely unhurt!”

A thrown boot—the mate to the one on his left foot—smashed into his face. “Are you done?” Violetta shrieked. “Are you finished?” She strode over to Tarvek, who was dazedly trying to determine where the stars that drifted across his field of vision belonged on the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram. “No, wait, you can’t be! You’re still alive!”

Tarvek focused on her. “You know, I really hate you,” he muttered.

“You hate me? How dare you!” Violetta began kicking the prone man in the head. “Feel my hate! Feel it!” Tarvek rolled over and feebly waved his hands in a parody of self-defense. “You aren’t allowed to commit suicide,” Violetta continued. “Only I must kill you!”

Agatha watched this with strong mixed feelings.

Since she had first met him in Sturmhalten, Tarvek had both supported and betrayed her in such quick alternating succession that she was unable to decide what she really felt for him. At the moment, impatience was winning out.

“Stop it!” Agatha’s yell froze both combatants. “What is wrong with you two?”

Violetta grabbed Tarvek’s hair and yanked his head up. “I’m responsible for this slug’s continued existence.”

Tarvek painfully pulled himself free from her grip. “And this useless nitwit is my loyal servant!” So saying, he delivered a sock to her sternum, causing Violetta to gasp.

Moloch strolled out the door and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure the two of you aren’t married?”

Violetta looked like she was about to be violently sick. “Oh, eewww!”

Agatha turned to Tarvek, who was fastidiously fashioning an elegant toga. “This is loyal?”

Tarvek tucked in the final fold and bent to put on his boot. “It’s not like she has a lot of choice. She’s my cousin. Her branch of the family has served mine for generations. She’s been trained since birth.”

“And I hate it!” Violetta declared. “I’m awful at it! I’m so bad at it that I got posted way out here, where all I had to do was play secretary to the local Burgermeister! It was easy! He’s such a fool that I still can’t believe he’s running this dump!”

She turned back to Tarvek, who flinched. “And then this fool gets captured! ‘So what?’ says me. ‘Not my problem.’ Wrong! ’cause the moron they have positioned in the hospital gets herself killed while trying to off the Baron—and suddenly it’s my job to drag the Royal Pain here out of the fire!”

By now, Violetta was punctuating her words by thumping Tarvek on the head with one fist.

“Not! My! Fault!” he wailed.